Assassin's Creed - Legionnaire
by 13en-writes-all
Summary: During the time of the Roman Empire, a Gallic boy's village is massacred by a Roman General to which he is sold into slavery. Many years later he is saved by the Brotherhood and sets out on his revenge. In modern times, his descendant is recruited into the Brotherhood and witnesses his journey through the Animus. Rated M for language, violence, and later chapters... ENJOY!
1. First Day at School

***In celebration of Assassin's Creed Odyssey being announced at E3, I've decided to take a stab at writing an Assassin's Creed fanfic**

 **Part 1 – First Day**

Life takes the craziest turns, one day our hero was sitting in a holding cell, and the next day he was on a helicopter heading towards his future school.

 _Five years prior_ …

The flurry of screaming and punching, his stepfather was always such an asshole.

His mother had a broken arm from when he attacked her last week, their 2-month-old Belgian Malinois named Remus had been thrown against the wall and in pain, and his little brothers were cowering in their rooms.

His stepfather was a bald, chubby man with a short temper and a very large drinking habit.

He wasn't going to take it anymore, he hated how he treated him, the dog he got for his birthday, his mother, and his brothers.

The nearest thing he could find was a baseball bat, he walked up to his stepfather who turned around as he heart the bat tapping on the floor only to have the bat hit him right across the jaw.

"Damn Bruce," he sat as he tried reached up to his jaw, "I didn't know you…" before he could say another word, Bruce broke his leg in one swing, causing him to scream in agony.

What happened next was a complete mystery to Bruce, all he remembers was bringing the bat down as hard as he could on several parts of his stepfather's body in a blind rage.

When he came down from the rage, he was breathing heavily, and kneeling over his stepfather.

The bat was one foot away in two pieces, split about one fourth down the length of the top.

His hands were covered in blood, slowly dripping blood onto his stepfather's motionless body.

Bruce stood up, took a few steps away from the body, and dropped to the floor in front of the bat.

 _Present_ …

Bruce sat there, staring at his hands, when Remus nudged his hands, "Hey boy," he said as he stroked his dog across the forehead.

"That dog of yours sure is loyal," Bruce's only true 'father figure' who he knew as Thatcher said as he walked over to sit in front of Bruce, "All these years, and he still hasn't left your side."

Bruce had no idea if Thatcher was his real name or not, but all he knew was that from his gruff voice and shorty, stylized messy hair he was probably from somewhere out west, and from the marks on his hands it could very possibly mean he might have been trained as a mechanic or an engineer.

"Yea," Bruce said, "Unlike certain people, he's loyal to the end."

"I wouldn't worry about that," Thatcher said, "You've done well."

"What's the school like," Bruce asked.

"Competitive," Thatcher said, "Everyone's in constant competition. Trying to be top dog. Right now the top dog at the academy is undefeated."

"What concentration," Bruce asked.

"Wetworks," Thatcher said, "Far from your concentration."

"I hope to live up to everything you've invested in me," Bruce said.

"You will," Thatcher said before looking out the window, "We're flying over the school right now."

Bruce looked out the window, the school was in the middle of a large wooded area and was roughly 2000 acres, the ivy-covered gym would be perfect for any professional football team, if that was what it was for.

Right next to the gym about twenty young men and women wearing JROTC camo boots, pants, and white shirts.

"When was the school formed," Bruce asked.

"Just shortly before the Second World War," Thatcher said, "With the rise of Fascism in Europe, the Japanese Empire's expansion into Asia, and the rise of Abstergo Industries told us that we needed to find a way to train more members. A tradition began during the War in which members of the order, such as myself would recruit others to join the order. Said recruits would need to try and find something unique that their recruits could use as an advantage."

"You mean that Remus is my edge over the other students," Bruce asked.

"That and the fact that you have something many recruits don't have," Thatcher said.

"What," Bruce asked.

"You'll see," Thatcher said as the helicopter came in for a landing, "We're here."

Bruce walked over to the door with Thatcher, and Remus followed him, as soon as the door opened, and the roar of the helicopter blades filled the cabin, the three of them jumped out the chopper, and began walking towards the front of the school.

 _Flashback, five years prior_ …

Bruce was charged with Juvenile Delinquency, and sent to a juvenile correctional clinic, he spent two months sitting through constant classes about how his actions, while noble were far outside the bounds of the law.

One day he was simply sitting in his room, throwing the ball the guards let him carry against the wall, the cheap orange jumpsuit they gave everyone in the clinic was scratchy, the socks they allowed him to wear in his room were not insulating at all so it was very cold.

The guards that walked down the hall didn't treat him the same as any of the others being as he killed someone while defending his family and the others either tried to kill someone, committed a robbery, or arson.

The jingling of their keys was annoying as he heard it every evening while they were walking through the halls.

He wasn't surprised when he heard one of them walking down the walkway to his cell, but what he was surprised by was when the guard stopping to unlock the cell, "Get up," he said, "You have a visitor."

Bruce stood up, and followed the guard to the mess hall where an Caucasian-Asian male about forty years of age with short, brown hair and brown eyes.

Bruce sat in front of him, and the man in front of him spoke, "Hello, Bruce."

"Do I know you, sir," Bruce asked.

"No," he said, "But I knew your father."

"I never knew him," Bruce said.

"Let's just say we worked together quite a lot," he said as he held out his hand, "My name is Thatcher by the way."

"Pleasure," Bruce said as he shook his hand.

"I heard about how you ended up in here," Thatcher said, "You risked all this to stand up for your mother and brothers."

"He was on track to kill my mom, me and my brothers," Bruce said, "If I hadn't have stopped him, mom would probably be dead."

"You have the drive to stand up for others," Thatcher said, "Your father had the same kind of drive which is what made him what he was."

"Which was what," Bruce asked.

"An assassin," Thatcher said as he reached into his neck, and pulled out a small amulet that was made of solid silver, and formed into an unusual shape, "A member of an ancient order that has existed since before the founding of the Roman Empire."

"This is crazy," Bruce said, "How do I know what you're saying is true?"

"Because I'm about to get you out of here," Thatcher said as he tapped three times on the table, first with his index finger, then his middle finger, and finally his ring finger which had a mysterious burn scar on it.

Heavily cloaked men and women emerged from trashcans and walls, and knocked the guards out cold.

"Good shit," Bruce said as he sprung up and fell backwards against another table's bench, "Who are you people?"

"We are the Brotherhood," Thatcher said, "We are assassins, just as your father was."

"What does this have to do with me," Bruce asked.

"I owe your father my life," Thatcher said as he walked up to Bruce, and sat next to him, "I promised him when he died that I'd look out for your family. Now's my chance to repay him."

"By doing what," Bruce asked.

"I can clear your record," Thatcher said, "Make you a free man."

"What do I have to do in return," Bruce asked.

"I can train you to be the man your father once was," Thatcher said, "You will learn how to shoot, move, and fight like one of us. You will be completely free."

"What's the catch," Bruce asked.

"The catch," Thatcher asked, "The catch is that you're untrained right now. So you will spend the next few years off the grid training your hardest. If you want that dog of yours can come with you. But aside from hand-written notes you can send to your mother, you will have almost zero human contact, except for myself."

"Is that it," Bruce asked.

"You'll get some information on the outside world," Thatcher said, "But I'm only going to make this offer once. So what's your answer?"

"When do we leave," Bruce asked.

 _Flashback ends_ …

As they walked into the school Bruce was instantly surprised by the décor, a two-story solid white marble lobby that looked like it should be in the entrance to a millionaire's mansion where a man dressed in a double-breasted gray business suit with the seal of the Assassin Order pinned to his lapel was there to greet them.

"Hello, Thatcher," he said as he shared a forearm-lock with Thatcher.

"Headmaster Delatorre," Thatcher said.

As Delatorre released Thatcher's arm, he walked up to Bruce, and stood firmly in front of him, his 6'2" height made him eye-level with Bruce, "Is this him," he asked.

"Yes, Headmaster," Thatcher said, "This is Bruce Greenwood, Vincent's son."

"It is good to finally meet you Bruce," Delatorre said as he held out his hand which Bruce shook, "One thing you have to learn is that we don't shake here," he then grabbed Bruce's forearm, "We do this."

"Apologizes, Headmaster," Bruce said.

"Don't apologize for such a trivial matter," Delatorre said, "You're here for one purpose, and right now I suggest we get started," as Bruce and Thatcher followed Delatorre, Remus started panting as they climbed the stairs to the next floor, "Belgian Malinois?"

"Yes, Headmaster," Bruce said, "Remus has been my companion for the past five years."

"He's your attack dog," Delatorre asked.

"I've imprinted him on many things," Bruce said, "Explosives, narcotics, weapons, and everything else I could in these previous five years."

"So Remus is your utility dog then," Delatorre asked.

"You could say that," Bruce said.

"Indeed," Delatorre said, "Have you selected your concentration?"

"Yes," Bruce said, "Your curriculum is very diverse. I was very tempted by the Weapon's Master concentration, but it was the Protective Services concentration that I decided to partake in."

"Have you decided to take Weapon's Master as your minor," Delatorre asked.

"Yes," Bruce said, "And Wetworks. I figure it would go hand-in-hand with my Protective Services concentration."

"In order to prevent assassinations you have to think like a major assassin," Delatorre asked.

"Yes, sir," Bruce said.

"You've taught this one well, Thatcher," Delatorre said.

"The statue was always there sir," Thatcher said, "I just cleared away the rough pieces."

Bruce knew this saying well, one of his favorite moves was the third Rambo movie, it was one of Richard Crenna's sayings to Rambo when he went to recruit him in Thailand.

"Now we get onto serious business," Delatorre said as he opened the door to a small medical wing, "We need to check on one thing before we continue with your initiation."

One of the nurses ushered Bruce over to one of the stations, "You must be Thatcher's newest secret weapon," she said.

"Bruce," he said, "Secret weapon?"

"That's what Thatcher has called you," she said as she prepared a needle, and drew some blood from Bruce's ring finger, "That should be enough to establish a DNA trace."

"DNA trace," Bruce asked as she bandaged his finger, "For what?"

"For your lineage," the nurse said as she put the blood onto a medical slide, and placed it into what appeared to be a miniature microwave oven connected to a printer, "It's standard procedure for new recruits."

"Why is that," Bruce asked.

"You're about to see," the nurse said as the small machine buzzed and then dinged, the printer then came to live, and pushed out a small piece of paper that had various names of what Bruce guessed was his ancestors' ethnicities, "Let's see, early Egyptian, French, Native American, English…" she then tapped on one of the DNA strands on the piece of paper, "Bingo."

Delatorre walked up to the nurse who pointed at one of the strands, "Perfect," he said as he walked over, and put a hand on Bruce's shoulder, "It's time."

"Time for what," Bruce asked.

"To visit the past," Delatorre said, "Trust me, you're love this."

 _What do you think_ …


	2. Into the Animus

**Part 2 – Back to the past**

Delatorre led Bruce from the main building to what appeared to be the computer center of a major university that had a four-story cylindrical window right above the entrance.

Inscribed in a brass plaque just to the side door said _Desmond Miles Technology Center_.

The entrance was a large five-story atrium with four levels above the main entrance that wrapped around the inside of the window, and into several hallways that led deeper inside the building.

"This is our main technology center," Delatorre said, "It was established just after the creation of the internet. Our students used this area to observe threats that occur on the internet, and to see if there is anything out there that could compromise the Brotherhood."

"Hence the secrecy," Bruce said.

"Precisely," Delatorre said as he, Bruce, and Remus entered one of the elevators.

"You're not coming with us," Bruce asked as Thatcher stopped just outside of the elevator.

"I have business elsewhere," Thatcher said, "You go ahead, you'll like this."

Delatorre took Bruce up to the fourth floor where they entered a small lab that was full of twelve-foot by twelve-foot glass cubicles with what appeared to be a solid metal case that had a human-shaped cutout in what appeared to be a bioluminescent-gel filled latex casing.

"What is this," Bruce asked.

"Welcome to the doorway to the past," Delatorre said as he walked up to one of the cubicles, and pointed at the hand-print analyzer, "If you would."

Bruce walked up, cautiously raised his hand to the analyzer, and when he pressed on it, he felt a small heat underneath his hand as the analyzer scanned his hand.

The glass cubicle then opened, and allowed him entrance, as he entered he pressed two fingers into the latex, it was cool to the touch, and it seemed to spring back almost as soon as he removed his hand, "It's spongy," he said.

"Lie down," Delatorre said.

"What," Bruce asked.

"It won't hurt," Delatorre said, "This is the fun part."

Bruce reluctantly followed instructions, and laid back in the latex which settled as he lied back in it, and right as he did, he could see something appear right above him on the roof of the glass cubical, "What is this," Bruce asked.

"This is the Animus," Delatorre said.

"What's an Animus," Bruce asked as he turned towards Delatorre.

"It's a virtual reality machine," Delatorre said, "It takes the genetic memories of our ancestors, and projects them for the user to live out."

"Genetic memories," Bruce asked.

"Yes," Delatorre said, "A memory is the recollection of a past event unique to the individual. But our brains also store genetic memories, in turn our brains act as the 'Library of Congress' if you will that contains records of our ancestors. The Animus allows us to tap into these memories, and live them out at any pace desired by the user or by the administrator."

"Like time travel," Bruce asked.

"In a sense, yes," Delatorre said, "It's not physical though, the Animus allows a temporary transfer of your consciousness into that of your long-gone ancestor."

"So I'd be living out events as they happened," Bruce asked.

"Sort of," Delatorre said, "The transfer of consciousness will take you into the body of your ancestor, and you will live out the time period you're in the Animus as your ancestor did, but when it comes to the physical aspect, you are in control."

"So I'd be in control of the body," Bruce said, "But not the mouth."

"Very close," Delatorre said, "Really the only way to explain is to show you."

"Where am I going," Bruce asked as an Animus technician came over, and placed a sensor on Bruce's index finger.

"The year 69 A.D.," Delatorre said as he input Bruce's genetic information into the Animus, "What is now the modern-day Limousin region of France. Get ready for a wild ride."

As soon as Delatorre activated the Animus, Bruce suddenly felt a massive surge of energy in his brain which caused his body to tense up before the sensation of a nuclear explosion going off in his brain caused his entire body to go limp.

Inside the Animus, Bruce had the sudden sensation of falling before he stopped in what he perceived to be a Gallic hut.

He was inside of a pre-teen's body, and was reading a Roman scroll.

He turned around to see that his mother was walking up to him, "Hello, mother," he said.

"Hello Varius," his mother said.

Varius would be a weird name for a Gallic Tribesman, but then again Gaul was under Roman rule during the first century A.D. so having a Gallic Tribesman with a Roman name might have been more common than Bruce thought.

"Where's father," Varius asked.

For some reason he could understand them, despite the fact that they should have been speaking Celtic, Bruce heard the words as English.

"Tending to the field," his mother said, "Do you think you could bring more seeds out to him?"

"Ok, mother," Varius said.

Varius walked outside, and saw his father's corn seeds sitting right next to the entrance to his family's hut.

The seeds were resting inside of a large leather sack with a rope that allowed for easy carrying.

He picked up the sack, threw it over his shoulder, and began walking toward the fields where his father was working.

Walking out to the fields, Varius was greeted by several of his parents' friends, and also some of his own.

While school wasn't free for most of Rome's territories, some of the teachers at the Roman schools would come into the village to give the children basic lessons such as how to speak Roman, or how to do very basic reading.

Varius's blue tunic left a lot to be desired, but then again what could you do? It's ancient Rome.

The fields where Varius's father plowed were almost completely freshly plowed, now all Varius had to do was give his father the seeds.

"Hello father," Varius said as he walked up to his father who took the seeds from his son.

"Varius," his father said as he ran his hand though his son's light ashy blonde hair, "Good to see you've finally woken up."

"Father," Varius said in an exasperated sigh.

Before his father could say another word, he heard a cry from the gate, and saw his friends were standing by the fence to the field waving at him.

Varius looked back at his father who simply chuckled, "Go on," he said as he pointed to the gate where his friends were waiting, "Your friends are waiting."

Varius ran over to his friends, and hoped over the fence to walk with them, "What're we going to do today," he asked.

"Same as yesterday," his friend Leviticus said, "If we're going to join the Roman Army, we need to keep training."

His friends were adamant about joining the Roman Army and seeing far away lands such as the Provinces of Alexandria and Jerusalem.

Varius was not so sure about joining the Roman Army being as life in the Military would usually mean long, brutal conflicts. While he enjoyed some conflict, he knew he needed to stay away from others.

His friends had somehow managed to make practice swords and shields.

They went a few hours with their blades before Varius stepped up, "Ok Varius," his friend Tiberius said as he stepped up, "Let's see if you've gotten any better."

He stepped in to trust at Varius who simply held up his shield, and came in with an overhand swing.

The wooden sword made a hallow 'thump' as it came down on top of the shield, the next swing was blocked by Tiberius's sword, who then thrusted his shield forward which Varius blocked.

Varius pushed against Tiberius's shield, pushing his friend back, and held his blade one inch from Tiberius's chest.

"Gotcha," he said as he tapped his friend on the chest.

There was a clapping sound that came from the woods, as they turned towards the sound, a Roman Centurion came walking out of the wood clapping.

"Impressive," he said, "It seems we have something worth taking back."

"Who are you," Varius asked as he stepped forward.

"My name is Centurion Avitus Caesar Iulia," he said as he pointed at the boys, "And I'm afraid you are now under the command of Emperor Marcus Salvius Otho Caesar Augustus."

Six other soldiers, judging by the armor they were Munifexes (Privates), they had typical Roman Gladiuses, and carried heavy black nets.

"We are Citizens of Rome," Varius said as him and his friends formed a back-to-back circle, "You can't do this."

"Watch us," Centurion Avitus said as his men pressed their attack.

Their shields made a very loud 'thud' as the nets came down on them, Varius pressed his attack, and managed to jab the soldier's eye, blood exploded onto the tip of the blade, and caused the soldier to drop to his knees, grabbing his eye.

Varius then stabbed the man in the side of his temple, and he was lying on the ground either dead or unconscious before he hit the ground.

Varius turned around to see the Centurion grab his arm, "You're an impressive one," he said, "I think they're might be use for you."

The Centurion then bunted Varius across the temple, and sent him to the ground, before he could stand back up, the Centurion knocked him unconscious with a single blow to the side of his head.

Varius came to sometime later, the soldier he stabbed was alive, but he was bound to a cross, and kneeling on the ground in front of a line of other men in his village.

Varius struggled against the restraints, but not before the soldier whose eye he cut out walked over, and held a blade to his throat.

"It seems I now have the chance to repay you for my eye," he said.

He reared his sword back, and was about to bring it down before someone shouted, "STOP!"

Varius and the soldier looked to the side, and saw a man dressed in a chainmail tunic with white fur pauldrons, a white cape, a black skirt with white accents, and had medals lining the front of his tunic.

"Praetor Cyprianus," the soldier said, "This is the one that took my eye."

"Is he now," Cyprianus said as he pushed the soldier's sword away, and grabbed Varius's chin, and leveled it up to look at him, "Very fine features. Send him off with the other children. He should fetch a very high price."

Varius was dragged away as he heard the cries from his mother who was begging the Centurion who knocked him out not to take him away.

Varius was carted away before being placed in chains, and sent in the back of a cart towards an unknown location.

He spent the next eleven days in the back of the cart they chained him in with several other slaves, some men, but mostly women.

The trader that was holding them was a pig, while the men wore loincloths that covered their lower regions, the trader refused to give the women anything to wear.

Through the Animus, Bruce could feel Varius's anger and hatred, you could tell that they were not going to get along very well.

Varius knew where they were going was nowhere good, and they could almost completely be sure that none of them were going to stay together for very long.

Two of the women loaded into the back of the cart with him were sold at the first town after they crossed the Rubicon.

Four of the others were sold just outside of Rome, but it was Varius's turn the second he stepped off the cart into the streets.

Cyprianus wasn't lying, Bruce was bought by a Roman Nobel who would buy slaves, and enroll them in Gladiator fights.

The trader that sold him got twenty two gold aurei, and twelve denarii.

Varius was brought to a large estate just outside of Rome, and he knew as the gates closed, he knew it would be years before he could go out.

 _ **I would like to say that in no way to I endorse slavery or sexism, but I feel that it was important to add the element of an old Roman slave trade as to sell the authenticity of the story, and if I have offended anyone, then I sincerely apologize.**_


End file.
